


Old Wounds

by PlaPla



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Detective Work, F/M, Gabriel Agreste's A+ Parenting, Loss of Identity, Marinette letting go, Mutual Pining, Nobody remembers safe for Marinette, Slow Burn, also featuring bg DJwifi and mentions of other ships, girl has to work through some stuff, he's a dick in every version of reality and that will never change, memory loss au, partners to acquaintances to lovers I guess?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27177071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlaPla/pseuds/PlaPla
Summary: A year after Hawkmoth‘s defeat Marinette Dupain-Cheng, now in college, is the only person to remember the existence of the Miraculous. With everyone else convinced that superheroes and supervillains are found solely on the pages of comic books, she finds herself struggling to adapt to this alternate reality without letting it overwrite the last ten years of her life.But when a new evil arises Marinette quickly realises she can‘ t possibly do this on her own. After all, Ladybug is nothing without her Chat Noir.If only he would remember.Heads up: This fic is rated Teen and Up. It does not feature explicit gore, violence or sexual content of any kind. However it is heavier than my usual lighthearted stuff and can get pretty emotionally intense at points. So if that's not your cup of tea you might want to sit this one out :)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Alya Césaire & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Nino Lahiffe, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 104
Kudos: 149





	1. Which side?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the folks over on the APS for the support, you're the best!  
> Special shoutout to boogum for beta-ing this chapter, I don't know what I would have done without you.

It was not raining when the sleek black car rolled up in front of the crowd. A strange thing to dwell on, surely, Marinette thought as she craned her neck along with the other spectators, but she couldn’t help it. This was the sort of occasion that would have called for a gloomy, overcast sky to weigh down on them as light rain mixed with glistening tears. However, the day was bright with sunlight, the air crisp and clear like glass, albeit a bit chilly with the gusts of wind that drove white splinters of clouds over the deep blue sky. There were no tears shed as the two men, one old and one young, exited the vehicle, and the whispers were more of a cruel curiosity than of actual pity.

_ He’s actually gonna do it. He is actually going to speak. Gabriel Agreste. And his son of course. That’s right, his mother. How long has it been? Must’ve been years now. _

Marinette buried her hands in her pockets, doing the best to tone out the whispers spreading around her like fine cracks on a frozen lake. The Agrestes were moving on thin ice indeed as they made their way to the front, dozens of eyes and almost as many cameras focused on every step, every twitch of their faces. Rising to her tiptoes, Marinette watched Adrien as he took position behind his father. At this moment, the family resemblance was undeniable. The same light, combed-back hair framing the same sharp cheekbones and jaw. Both faces wearing the calm and impenetrable expression of people used to dealing with the public. To anyone else, they must have looked like statues. To anyone else, the paleness of Adrien’s face, the tension in his jaw and shoulders, must have been unnoticeable or perhaps an effect of the cold November weather. But Marinette wasn’t anyone. She knew Adrien.

Had known him.

“He doesn’t look good,” Alya whispered beside her. She’d put away her small spiral notebook as soon as she’d seen their friend’s face, something Marinette had to give her credit for. “I don’t like this.”

Marinette couldn’t help but agree.

Up on the podium, Gabriel Agreste started speaking and Marinette had to fight down a wave of sickness. That voice. That _ man. _ All those years of terror and pain.

“ _ Mesdames et Messieurs ...” _

The crowd around Marinette fell silent instantly, determined not to miss a single word.

On their own accord, her eyes flickered to Adrien. His hands were wrapped in modern leather gloves, but she didn’t have to see them to tell they were bare beneath.

No ring.

On which side had he worn it? Right?

She couldn’t remember.

“…  _ I am finally speaking to you again after ten years…” _

Marinette felt her breath quicken, panic rising in her chest. Left or right? She should remember. She  _ had  _ to remember.

“Hey, you okay, girl?”

Alya’s voice seemed to come from far away.

“…  _ three of which my son and I have spent in mourning ...” _

Marinette squeezed her eyes shut, fighting to summon an image of the ring, of how it rested against Adrien’s skin. His suit. Silver and black.

“…  _ when I lost the love of my life…” _

Had it glittered when he waved at her?

When he raised his weapon in battle, when he reached to kiss her hand?

“…  _ my beautiful wife, the mother of my son …” _

_ Milady. My Lady? _

“…  _ pronounced dead ...” _

What had it felt like? Cool and unyielding to her touch? Or humming with hidden power.

“…  _ after seven years of searching …” _

Her hands snapped to her ears.

_ What had it felt like? _

“Marinette?”

“…  _ my Emilie …” _

She pressed her hands against her head, muffling the noise. The more she thought about it, the more fleeting the images became, the harder it was to come up with even the faintest of impressions.

Remember.

Left or right?

Suddenly there were hands grabbing her shoulders, pressing her dissolving consciousness back into a tangible form.

“Marinette, please talk to me. You’re scaring me.”

She had to get out of here. Had to collect her thoughts, put them back in their place before they all seeped through her fingers like melting snow.

“Overload,” she warbled, shaking off Alya’s grip. “Gotta … fresh air.”

“I’ll come with you!”

“…  _ thank you for all your sympathy …” _

“No, stay.”

She turned and fought through the mass of bodies surrounding her, Alya’s protest turning to white noise along with everything else. Marinette pushed blindly, the hammering of her pulse drowning out even the speakers amplifying Gabriel Agreste’s voice as she darted for the gates and onto the equally crowded street.

Remember.

She had to round the opposite building before she finally broke free from the crowd, legs trembling as she slumped against the wall. Marinette slid down to the floor, the coarse stone riding up the layers of her tops until it scratched against her bare back. She hardly felt it. In a frenzy, she ripped open her purse, the small notebook and pen almost sliding through her numb fingers.

She had to be quick, every second meant another day lost.

The paper almost tore as she searched for an empty page.

Write it down. Write it all down.

Her right hand clenched into a fist around the pen. Its tip poked a dark hole into the pure white of the paper and —

Nothing.

Her hand remained frozen, a dark spot bleeding from where her pen was touching the page.

She couldn’t remember.

Anything.

Marinette forced a deep breath, fighting back tears as another wave of panic threatened to pull her under.

Relax.

Small steps.

Start with what you know.

_ My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. _

The words looked scrawly, like they’d been written by a child, but Marinette didn’t care. She had to keep going, keep up the flow.

_ I’m 23 years old. _

_ I was Ladybug _ .

_ I had a partner. _

Her pen stilled. Marinette shook her head violently. She couldn’t stop now. She couldn’t forget

_ Adrien Agreste. _

_ Chat Noir _

The last letter ran off the page as the first tear hit the paper. She drew quick, shallow breaths.

_ He doesn’t remember. No one does. _

_ But we did it, we saved everyone, we _ _ — _

It was impossible to tell how long she stayed like that, huddled up on the cold ground, writing. Her back grew stiff against the hard stone. The only noise was her shaky breathing and the scratching of pen on paper as she filled page on page with narrow black text.

Remember.

It was only when the notebook completely blurred before her eyes, hands and back and neck aching, that Marinette lowered the pen. Suddenly, it felt almost heavy in her hand.

She flipped back through the notebook, through her memories of today. Three days before that. A week.

_ My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. _

She’d almost reached the end of this one. Better get a new one soon.

“There you are!”

As if woken from a dream, Marinette blinked up at the voice.

“Alya.”

“Girl, what is going on?” Alya crouched down, her face getting level with Marinette’s. “Are you okay?”

On its own accord, Marinette’s consciousness tried painting an orange mask around those worried eyes. Was it more amber or apricot? She’d have to look it up once she got home.

“Marinette!”

“What? Yes, I’m _ — _ I’m fine.”

Alya frowned. “You sure?”

“Yep.”

“This isn’t” _ — _ she lowered her voice and huddled closer _ — _ “this isn’t about that superhero thing of yours again, is it?”

Marinette swallowed. “No.”

There’s a brief silence in which Alya watched her carefully.

“No, Alya, of course not.”

She could see the relief flurry over her friend’s face.

“Oh thank _ — _ ” Alya muttered under her breath. “Good. That’s good.”

Knees and back protesting loudly, Marinette pushed herself up from her cowering position. “So, is the conference done then?” she asked lightly. “What’d I miss?”

“It’s not over yet. I _ — _ you weren’t coming back and I _ — _ ”

“Oh, Alya, I’m so sorry. What about your scoop?”

“Don’t worry. There’s plenty of press around. It wouldn’t have been exclusive anyway.” Alya had gotten up with her, patting dust off her jacket. “And, honestly, if Adrien’s dad feels like he can just pop back up after ten years of radio silence, I will be tripping over myself _ — _ ”

“W _ — _ Ten years? He hasn’t spoken to the public in  _ ten years?” _

That didn’t feel right. She _ — _ there’s memories of public appearances. Fashion week.  _ Style queen. _ New York.

“Well, it’s been ten years since his wife disappeared so… Seriously what is going on in that head of yours?”

Marinette felt her headache rising again. There _had_ been public appearances. Right?

“… High time he shows his nose again, too, if you ask me. Adrien’s been working through it since he was fourteen and he’s doing a way better job. Sure, the funeral was hard on him too, but it’s not like they actually  _ buried _ her, just that little plaque and _ — _ Shit that sounded super insensitive. That’s Adrien’s mum we’re talking about. Of course he’s still upset. He’s got every right. But the way his father’s been _ — _ Girl are you okay? You’re as white as a sheet.”

“Just a little tired,” Marinette managed as images of a crowd in black and a field of umbrellas surrounding the Agreste Mansion flooded her mind. Nino hugging a puffy-eyed Adrien, Alya holding her hand as they walked up to them _ — _

No, that’s not real. Not real. She held onto that thought as she felt reality boil around her, new memories threatening to wash away the old ones.

“Are you coming down with something?” Alya asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Alya locked their arms, pulling Marinette out of her sway. “Well, you don’t look too good. Come on let’s get you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this concludes our first chapter!  
> This is my first time writing a multichapter and I am honestly really exited (and a little terrified. but mostly exited!)  
> I'll try to keep the updates about the same length as this one, both because I like short chapters and because they will be more managable that way.  
> There will be no upload schedule, but the overall outline is done (I am finishing editing the second chapter and getting started on the third as we speak.)  
> Stay tuned!


	2. Frozen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again @ boogum for beta-ing this you are my literal saviour

“Alright, got your tea.” Alya’s eyes stayed focused on the mug as she carefully closed the door behind her. On the chaise, Marinette sat up under her comforter

“Thank you so much.” Marinette leaned forward to accept the steaming cup.

Alya made a dismissing gesture with her free hand. “We didn’t — careful, it’s hot. We didn’t have strawberry, but I think I read peppermint’s better anyway when you’re sick.”

“Peppermint’s great.”

“You sure? I can pick some up later when I go shopping.”

“Nah, don’t worry.” Marinette scooched over, careful not to spill the hot containments of the cup as she patted the pillow next to her.

Alya sat, eyeing her concernedly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Just a little tired.”

“Was it — ”

“I’m  _ fine, _ Alya.”

“Okay.” Alya didn’t look convinced. She had always had a sixth sense to pick up her lies.

“I’m just sorry we missed the rest of the press conference.” Marinette sighed, her breath rippling the surface of her drink like a miniature lake. “I really — I wish we could have been there to support him.”

“Don’t worry, Nino’s with him. They totally understand.”

Marinette swallowed drily at Alya’s words. She should have been there for Adrien, there at his side. She —

“Oh,” Alya said, “that reminds me. I’m supposed to tell you to get well soon.”

“Thanks,” Marinette croaked.

“Now that I think about it, Adrien especially seemed really concerned for your well-being.” 

Marinette felt something in her chest clench painfully. If only Alya knew. If only  _ he  _ knew.

She winced as another stab of pain shot through her forehead.

“Hey, you okay?” Alya’s hand fluttered to her shoulder, her brows drawn in worry as she examined Marinette through her glasses.

“Headache.”

“You really have to get some rest, girl. Good thing we got you out of there. You look like you’re about to faint.”

“But Adrien — ”

“Will be fine.”

“We didn’t even stay until his dad was done talking.”

“You’re sick, nobody's gonna blame you.”

“I know I just — this was the one thing I could have done for him. At least be there and listen.”

Alya looked at her for a moment, seemingly considering something. “Okay, c’mere.” With a huff, Alya repositioned herself so that she was right next to Marinette, pulling out her phone. “There’s gotta — there you go.”

Turning the device sideways, she opened what appeared to be a video of the local news. The news anchor gave several short hiccups as Alya tapped the screen impatiently, skipping over the initial sum up and a feature about the new exhibition in the Louvre. Finally, Gabriel Agreste’s face appeared. His lips were moving but there was no sound to the video, the anchor’s voice narrating instead.

“…  _ speaks for the first time in a decade. After his wife’s disappearance, the famous fashion designer had withdrawn from the public completely, refusing to give a statement even when she was declared dead three years ago.” _

With jarring suddenness, the audio cut to that of the footage. Gabriel Agreste’s voice filled the small bedroom and Marinette couldn’t suppress a shudder.

There was nothing to worry about, she reminded herself. From all she knew, he’d lost his memories and Miraculous along with everybody else. There hadn’t been an Akuma attack in over a year, ever since the day that — what?

What had happened?

Had he made his wish? But Emilie was dead in this reality, wasn’t she? Had it all gone wrong?

Marinette’s memories of that last night before the change were … hazy at best. She’d never been able to conjure up more than a vague feeling of it while awake, the ghost of adrenaline rushing through her veins for just a second.

There had been … a fight.

So far she’d gathered that from her dreams. Or nightmares. They seemed disjointed somehow. Mutilated. Full of strange noises that seemed to originate from nowhere, playing over an array of impressions that didn’t match. Sometimes it was just the echo of a feeling. Sometimes there were screams. Flashes of light. Faces contorted by different emotions, flickering by too fast to determine which ones.

Was it all a ruse? A setup to make her lower her guard? But how? And what for? She had nothing left for him to take.

Marinette felt Alya’s curious glance brush against her, and cursed internally. This wasn’t the moment to drift off. She knew that she’d hardly convinced Alya earlier, no matter how often she insisted this had nothing to do with “her superhero thing”. There was this expression on Alya’s face whenever Marinette brought it up, somewhere between pity and fear.

Marinette had learned to avoid it quickly.

She ground her teeth at another duller wave of pain against her temples and forced her mind back on the video. The news anchor’s voice had replaced that of Gabriel again as both she and the camera shifted their focus away from him to Adrien. His face was stoic as it filled the screen, so utterly motionless that Marinette would have thought it a still hadn’t it been for a stray strand of blond hair that had broken free from it’s combed back confinement and was now fluttering in the breeze. He hadn’t spoken to the press, the voice-over explained. An instance that didn’t keep them from speculating wildly as it seemed.

“This is disgusting,” Alya growled next to her. “This boy has lost his mother and all they wanna know is if he’s shagging someone right now.”

“Alya!”

“I’m serious. Journalism should be about the truth and not about selling cheap gossip.” Alya lowered her phone as the screen switched to a wide shot of the crowd in front of the Agreste house before returning to the face of the anchor. “I just hope they don’t drag Kagami into this again. It took ages until they left her alone after the break up.”

Marinette nodded absent-mindedly. Apparently, Kagami and Adrien had dated for a significant amount of time, way longer than in her version of reality.

_ Well,  _ I _ wasn’t in the picture,  _ a tiny voice at the back of her head whispered.

_ Shut up,  _ thought the rest of her. She really did like to torture herself, huh?

“…  _ which is the lowest level of water that has been measured in the Seine over the last twenty years,”  _ the caster’s muffled voice announced, pulling her out of her thoughts. “ _ Looks like we’ll be making it through the winter dry shod.” _

Marinette glanced down as the video cut away from the woman’s smiling face to the next report. The footage showed a bright blue sky over a glistening city, an idyllic pan along the Seine, only disturbed by a strange flicker of blue light. The camera zoomed in and an ambulance came into view, surrounded by chattering police.

“I know that spot,” Alya exclaimed. “We literally drove past it on our way back!”

“... _ found the man, who was admitted to hospital immediately. Despite no visible injuries, he appears to be unconscious.” _

Another cut, away from the ambulance and towards a middle-aged blonde in uniform. A small banner at the bottom edge of the screen identified her as  _ Vivian Girard, Police. “It’s strange alright,”  _ Vivian said, looking not quite into the camera.  _ “We were sent over to check out some calls, most of ‘em contradictory.”  _ The image flashed from where her speech had been cut by the editors, the melody of her voice ever so slightly off beat at every transition. “ _ Some called in over a man ‘acting weird’, others say he’s unresponsive. Both’s not uncommon, this is _ _ — _ _ a popular spot for people to drink _ _ — _ _ it’s a bit early sure but I didn’t think it too weird - But he _ _ — _ _ was just standing there, straight up frozen _ _ — _ _ at first I thought someone’s pulling our leg, what with the writing and all.”  _ She shook her head. “ _ I’ve never seen anything like it.” _

Marinette felt ice water rushing into her veins, freezing her from the inside out. She only half heard the caster ramble on about  _ “confidential details”  _ and  _ “uncertainty of third party fault”. _

_ Straight up frozen, no visible injuries, unresponsive ... _

The words were circling in her head on repeat. This sounded all too familiar.

_ Never seen anything like it. _

“I have,” Marinette whispered, only realising she’d said it out loud when Alya quirked an eyebrow.

“You good?”

“Y-yeah.” Gathering all her courage, Marinette turned to look at Alya. “It’s — this is weird, isn’t it?”

“What?” Alya glanced from Marinette to the phone to Marinette “Oh — no. No, it isn't.”

“Someone did this,” Marinette muttered under her breath, more to herself. “I don’t know who or how but something — ”

“Don’t be silly!” Alya snatched up her phone, rising to her feet. “You’ll see, they’ll find out he’s sick or that he ingested some weird toxin or whatever.” Her expression softened. “You’re exhausted. And sick. Get some rest.”

Another flurry of cold blew through Marinette’s chest. Alya turned back to her as she grabbed the door handle. There was that expression Marinette had come to fear, that mix of worry and pity. She hadn’t seen it in a while

“I’ll be right down the hall if you need me.”

Marinette swallowed sandpaper. “Thanks, Alya.”

“Get well soon.”

And with another sad smile and a waft of red hair she was gone, once again closing the door behind her.

Alone.

Marinette leaned down to set her tea on the floor and turned onto her back. The room was utterly quiet. For the first time in forever, she could actually hear the cars driving down the street several stories below.

She stared at the ceiling.

She’d been monitoring the news for months and months for anything like this. Starting out, she’d even asked Alya to help her, but dropped the subject quickly at Alya’s reaction. There’d been one or two wrong alarms, sure, but this? This was real.

This was actually weird.

Was it?

Of course it was. She was Ladybug. She knew foul magic when she saw it.

But who was it? And what did they want?

Marinette closed her eyes, ignoring her lingering headache. Could it have been Gabriel? It wasn’t his style, quietly attacking and leaving without voicing any demands. Besides, would he even have had time after the conference? It  _ had _ been over for a few hours now. When had the victim been attacked? How long did it take to akumatise someone? Given he even had his miraculous. Which seemed more and more unlikely every passing day.

Marinette rolled onto her side. The old-timey alarm clock on her bedside table ticked loudly.

At least her room hadn’t changed, still the same odd mix of childhood furniture and IKEA pieces she and Alya had gotten when they’d first moved in. She wondered what had made them pick this flat in this reality, where quick and discreet roof-access had never been a factor. Perhaps the magic in a fit of mercy had decided that she should at least keep her home. Perhaps it just hadn’t cared.

She rubbed her face in frustration and groaned. Eight years of her life a warbled, misty mess. The pain behind her temples swelled as she racked her brain. What else could it have been? Had she read something in the Grimoire maybe? Marinette let out a sigh and let her hands fall back against the cushions. It was no use.

With a quick glance at the door, she set her socked feet on the floor. The comforter slid off her shoulders as she got up and tiptoed over to her sewing station. As quietly as possible, she heaved through her fabric stash, the pile on her work table growing until her fingers finally scraped over cardboard.

One by one, Marinette pulled out three boxes, unceremoniously dumping back her work materials afterwards. She would worry about the mess later. For now, her attention was occupied by the three containers in front of her. They all were the same size, about as big as two shoe-boxes stacked on top of each other, and all had the same featureless brown of naked cardboard.

Again, Marinette shot a look over her shoulder, just to make sure. She kneeled down, lifting the first lid. Names upon names, written in her own handwriting seemed to wave up at her like the old friends they belonged to. The files always had a calming effect on her, and it was no different now.

Marinette dug through the folders, some close to bursting from all the scrap papers and drawings stuffed inside. Others were almost empty save for one or two sheets.

Rena Rouge (A. C.)

Akuma

Viperion ( A. A.  L. C.)

Ladybug (M. D.-C.)

Miraculous (PowerUps)

Hawkmoth (G. A.)

Emilie Agreste

Bunnyx (???)

Theories

She pulled them out at random, file upon file.

Everything she knew, everything she’d ever remembered about the old world, was here. Unlike her unreliable mind, paper didn’t forget.

It had taken less than a year to make her utterly dependent on the fact, the sturdy letters her only memories while her own seemed to fade like old photographs. It was funny, in a way. At first she hadn’t even noticed how everything was slipping from her. With everybody else so completely clueless, her mind had been occupied by the things she remembered rather than by the one’s she was forgetting.

Things that were gone from one day to the other.

For the second time that day, Marinette’s hands found her earlobes. She could feel a faint echo of the panic that had coursed through her a year ago, when she’d woken up in this very room to find her earrings gone.

What date had it been? Sometime in autumn, she figured. Yeah, there’d definitely been leaves falling. An image flashed before her mind, clear and colourful like a snapshot. Adrien and Nino chasing each other through the sea of red and gold at their feet, cheeks flushed and eyes bright with excitement behind their masks.

The scene faded from her mind as quickly as it had appeared. Marinette knew better than to cling onto it. She’d written it down before somewhere here. Her hands dug through the stack of files.

_ The Day Before _

There you go. She flipped it open with practised ease. And there it was, one of the upmost papers, Black on white, blue where she’d made additions later.

_ The four of us in a park (Ag. Manor?), all in costume. It’s cold, the trees are mostly bare (matches ref. no. 246, pls verify). Adrien (Chat Noir) and [one of the others] are playing catch, laughing. _

Marinette’s fingers trembled slightly as she reached up, blindly feeling around her desk for a pencil. Gritting her teeth against the pain now hammering in her skull, she scratched out the placeholder brackets and filled in Nino’s name, careful to tag the addition with today’s date.

Good.

What else?

It was a ritual of some sorts, a process she’d repeated so often it’d become as natural as breathing to her. Making an addition here, backreading something there. Keeping the memory alive.

She’d spent one year waiting. Was it over now? Did Paris need her again?

Either way, she’d be ready. Tikki could count on her. Paris could count on her.

Marinette gathered the files, grabbed her notes from her purse and got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild plot appears...  
> This is actually the third chapter I've written for this fic as I more or less decided to rewrite it completely at some point. I hope you enjoy the new and improved version (thanks again Kim!)


	3. Burned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to boogum and ladybuginettes for your vital input on this chapter!

The light of the dying sun set the room ablaze, flickering on the chipped gold brims of teacups and turning the specks of dust into fiery sparks. Marinette watched them snuff out one by one as they passed from light to shadow. Her fingers were wrapped around her cup, its content black as burned wood against the light china. She couldn’t remember when it had stopped steaming.

It had been eight days since the press conference. Eight days until the four of them finally managed to meet up like they’d planned. Sure, Alya and Nino had met up in the meantime, but Adrien was hard to get a hold of between university and his ever growing number of modeling gigs. And Marinette herself hadn’t been the most sociable. She’d told Alya it was an upcoming project for class that had her stay up late night after night, hunched over her desk with only the light of her old desk lamp. “The creative zone” was the only way to keep her friend from forcing her to bed when the small trickle of light seeping out from under Marinette’s door was still visible after midnight. Not that Alya approved of it. Though Marinette had to admit, Alya’s concerned glances and muttering about professors from hell upon seeing her emerge from her room in the morning like a corpse from its tomb were still easier to handle than the reaction if Alya had known what she was really up to.

There’d been five more attacks. Five. And still Marinette couldn’t see any rhyme or reason behind it. The victims were of different genders, shared neither age nor a common background. One was a pretty successful lawyer in her fifties, another a young father of three. Some had been attacked at night, others in broad daylight. There was no pattern in when or where the attacks would take place, or whom they’d hit. It just all seemed so random.

If she had still had her earrings, or any of the Miraculous really, she’d have gone out and swooped the city until she’d found that sucker and given them a piece of her mind. Bound to the ground and without superpowers though… the best she could do was stay put and watch. Look out for anything that could give away whoever was doing this, sleep and coursework be damned.

“Marinette?”

She startled at the word, almost spilling cold coffee down the front of her favorite pink sweater. “Huh, yeah I’m — sorry, what?”

She looked up to meet the gaze of the softest bright green eyes she knew..

“I was wondering,” Adrien repeated quietly, careful to keep his voice down so as not to draw the attention of the other patrons. He’d taken the seat facing the wall for a reason after all. “How you’ve been?”

Marinette blinked at him, puzzled.

“I mean, you’re better now obviously.” He smiled awkwardly. “I just hope it wasn’t anything serious.”

“Oh — oh no. Just a cold.”

“I tried calling but Alya said — ”

“Yeah, I was pretty out of it.” 

Marinette glanced over to where their friends were standing at the counter, feeling a surge of gratitude towards Alya wash over her. When Adrien had tried to call the days after the funeral, it had been Alya who’d picked up the phone, Alya who had covered for her, no questions asked.  _ It’s alright, girl. Take your time.  _

Marinette shrugged. “And then I had a lot of uni stuff to catch up on. You know how it is.”

“Of course.”

Silence settled between them, heavy and thick like smoke.

“And how are you?” she asked when she finally felt like she could face him again. “Are you…?”

What? Dealing with it? How  _ could  _ someone deal with something like that so fast?

“I’m okay.” Adrien rubbed his face. “I’m glad — I’m glad father is finally starting to heal.”

“But how are you?”

His eyes flickered to hers. They seemed brighter than usual. “I — It’s been … strange, I guess. It’s good we’re finally moving on, though.”

Marinette waited, knowing he’d continue. She knew that expression, the way he bit his lip and his eyes lost their focus a little. As if they were looking in rather than out. Marinette had seen it so often, when they’d been teenagers in class, when they’d hung out at Nino’s, when they’d sat in the moonlight, the lights of Paris scattered below like stars of a far off galaxy as the two of them inched closer, closer-

Not the time.

“I just … I wish he wouldn’t move as fast.” Adrien finally sighed, speaking more to the cup in her hands than to her. “For ten years we couldn’t even mention — mention her name and now suddenly there’s a press conference and a dinner and …” He trailed off, clearing his throat. “Anyway, I — I’m sorry to unload this all on you. It’s fine. Really.”

Marinette sat in her chair, silent. With the window glowing red behind him, Adrien almost looked as if he was on fire himself. She physically felt the need to reach out to him, to take his hand and wrap her arms around him.  _ I’m there for you, kitty. I’ll always be there. _

She gripped her coffee cup tighter.

“I hope you’re all hungry!”

Marinette would have loved to say it had been Nino’s interjection that stopped her from saying anything else. She swallowed drily as two sets of hands set four plates down on the table cloth.

“Even if I weren’t,” Alya said, plopping down to Marinette’s right “this stuff is too good to pass on.” Her fingers drummed the table impatiently.

“Man, why do I keep ordering this?” Adrien whined, all brittleness gone from his voice. Marinette didn’t have to look up to know he’d wiped every trace of it from his face, too. “I don’t even like it.”

“I don’t know, man. Why do I keep agreeing to buy it for you?” Nino huffed, taking a seat. “You wanna switch?”

Adrien’s eyes wandered from his sandwich to the mass of cream and biscuit on Nino’s plate. “I — I’m not supposed to.”

“And sold, to the man in the unreasonably overpriced jacket.” Nino cut him off, shoving his plate towards Adrien and grabbing the other. “Mhhh, gotta love myself some camembert.”

Adrien cringed, opening his mouth to protest but by then Nino had already taken a respectable bite out. “So, wad awe you guws tawking awoud?”

“Babe, stop, you’re so gross,” Alya laughed, covering her croissant to protect it against an imaginary spray of spit.

“Oh, nothing really,” Adrien said lightly. “Marinette was telling me how she’s really busy.”

Nino swallowed, looking at him. His brows were drawn ever so slightly. “Alya said profs are really keeping you on your toes,” Nino said slowly, his gaze lingering on Adrien’s just an instance before he turned and smiled at her. “I hope it’s not too much work?”

“No, it’s fine. I mean, we’re finally getting to design something of our own, so I’m excited, really.” She looked down at her untouched chocolate eclair.

“I’m sure you’ll do great, girl! You’re an awesome designer.”

“Thanks, Alya.”

“So, what are you working on?” Nino took another bite.

“Oh, you know. A project.” Three pairs of eyes looked at her expectantly. “It’s a … it’s a dress. We’re supposed to represent ourselves, as a designer and as a person.”

“Dude, that sounds awesome!”

“Eh, I’m not really far. Aside from the fact that I want it to be a dress, I haven’t got anything really.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’ve been working day and night.” Alya leaned forward in her chair and nudged Marinette’s arm playfully.

Marinette winced. “I — I’m just having trouble working out a colour scheme, is all.”

“No pink?” Nino said, putting down the single surviving bite of what had once been Adrien’s sandwich. “Who are you and what have you done to our friend Marinette?” 

She stuck out her tongue in response, glad for the excuse not to look at Alya. That had been a close one.

“I think it’s really cool that you wanna try something new.” Adrien smiled, the first genuine smile since they’d arrived. “Move on to walk new paths and all. Whatever you’ll come up with, I’m sure it will be nothing short of amazing.” He looked at her thoughtfully and despite it all, despite everything, Marinette felt her cheeks warming from more than the sun. “Maybe try red? I think red would really suit you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet the boiiis  
> fhjjdshjd this chapter has been sitting for a week now. After how long the previous chapter got I decided to cut down on length again so that I could be quicker and qouldn't you know it. Life got pretty stressfull all of a sudden.  
> But I will continue with this story, big promise.  
> The next part should be fun...


	4. Four Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks @ brenanabread for beta reading this chap for me, ly <3

_ Walking with him felt like flying. Tiles and chimneys and streets would blur beneath her feet as they chased each other over the rooftops. Every once in a while, when she felt ahead enough to look back, she would catch glimpses of him across the abyss. A flick of his belt behind a chimney. The flash of his staff in the sun. He was getting closer and she sped up. His proximity made her bolder, sprint faster, leap farther. Weightless. She threw her yo-yo and soared over the Seine. The head-wind snatched her breathy laugh from her lips. It seemed to echo endlessly under the impossibly wide sky. _

_ Her feet hit the ground running. They drummed in sync with her fluttering heartbeat. Paris rushed past like a tape on rewind. Fragments of his taunts reached her, his voice the only thing rising over the white noise. As if they were the only two people in the world. Her skin prickled. Another laugh broke from her lips. A few more steps and her body tensed in preparation of the next jump. _

_ Almost. _

_ Almost. _

Now _.  _

_ Her feet left the roof just as an arm snaked around her waist.  _

_ “Adrien!” she yelped as their combined momentum threw them off balance. They hit the rooftop at the same time and he held onto her as they rolled along the surface, his laughter vibrating against her back into her very bones.  _

_ “Gotcha, bugaboo!” They’d come to a halt, limbs hopelessly tangled on the cold tin. His arms were still around her waist. Neither seemed concerned to get up. “I win.” He buried his face in her hair and she giggled. After extensive wriggling, she managed to free an arm to scratch him under the chin.  _

_ “Took you long enough, kitty cat.” _

_ And then the world went black. _

Marinette woke up to the rustling of paper and a backache that felt like she’d been thrown off a building. Something hard pressed against the side of her face. It took her a moment to understand it was the top of her desk and another before she pushed herself up. Sleep had caught up with her after all. There was a foul taste in her mouth as she blinked around her room. To call it a mess would have been an understatement. Handwritten notes, photocopies of papers and empty coffee mugs were scattered on every surface. Thank god Alya didn’t come in here.

The newspaper Marinette’d been leaning on rustled softly as she lifted her hand to rub her face. Her fingers were smudged with red pen.

She’d barely slept in the few days since their meeting at the café. As the initial shock of the attacks wore off and interest plummeted, information became harder and harder to come by. Articles got shorter, moving further back in the papers. The time she had to spend scavenging and circeling even scraps had doubled over the past week. More than once had she been caught browsing the internet during lectures, something that wasn’t taken kindly especially with her laxing more and more on every assignment.

If only she’d found out something new.

Marinette stifled a yawn and looked up to the map she’d pinned to the wall, trying for the thousandth time to make some sense of the pattern of dots she’d filled in. Some of them hadn’t even been officially connected to the case, but she knew better. The police could talk about nervous breakdowns or allergic reactions all they wanted, she knew the signs. She knew what was happening.

Well. Partly.

More than the rest of the world.

_ You and me against the world. _

Marinette should have gotten up and grabbed a pen. Written it down. But she sat frozen, breathing quickly while her chest constricted with a vague pain. This shouldn’t come to a surprise. Talking to Adrien would always bring a new tide of memories, a new wave of dreams. This one had lasted for over a week by now, filling half of her new notebook already. Some of her files had almost doubled in size.

It was an opportunity really. So much information.

She just wished there would have been a way to ward off the dreams.

The map blurred before her eyes and Marinette shook her head. She needed caffeine.

When she stepped into the hall she was surprised to see it was still light out. What time even was it?

“Marinette, that you?” Alya called from the living room.

“Yup.” She followed her friend’s voice to the crammed little heart of their apartment. “The one and only.”

When Marinette entered, Alya was sitting on the sofa watching some kind of afternoon soap. As Marinette approached, she could see Nino stretched out over Alya’s lap.

“Girl, you look like hell.”

“Geez, thanks, Alya.” Marinette crossed her arms. “Hey, care to teach your girlfriend some manners?”

Nino shrugged, not looking up from his phone “Lost cause. Especially when she’s right.”

“Wow. I don’t even know why we still let you in here.” Marinette rolled her eyes, heading past them towards the even smaller, even more cramped kitchen.

Alya’s neck snapped round. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To get some coffee?”

“It’s five pm you’re not having coffee!”

“But—”

“Oh no, this is an intervention.”

“I’ll make you some too?”

“Nice try. It’s the weekend, I slept until noon today. No coffee for you, young lady.”

“Fine,” Marinette grumbled. “In that case I better head back and—”

“Come on, you’ve been working so hard. Take a break for once.” Nino lifted his legs to free another seat on the sofa.

Marinette stiffened. “I really should—”

“Take a break, Marinette, you’ve earned it.” Something in the way Alya looked at her made Marinette swallow her protests.

“You just want my brain to rot alongside yours,” she grunted as she plopped on the couch. Her frustration sounded more real than she’d intended. She didn’t have time for this nonsense

“Well actually, I’m reading the news right now, so that cancels it out.” Nino lowered his feet into her lap as soon as she was seated. “Turn up the volume please?”

Alya snorted. “You really are something else, you know that?”

“Hey, you were the one who insisted we actually  _ watch _ this garbage instead of—”

“It’s for  _ school  _ Nino. I have an assignment in Media Studies.”

“Sure you do.”

They kept quipping back and forth like that, their voices blending with those of the people in the show. Marinette tuned them out, letting her thoughts wander back to the map in her room. They were at 11 red dots now. She could see them float in front of her eyes, a constellation of question marks.

Why there? Why those people?

Why? Why? Why?

“Abbesses is closed,” Nino announced, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Shush, babe, we’re trying to watch this.”

“ _ You’re  _ trying to watch this,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “I’m doing my best not to.”

“So what, you’d rather read public transport updates than watch tv with your friends.”

“I told you, I’m reading the  _ news.  _ Apparently police is closing off the entire station. Shit, this sounds serious—Look.” Nino frowned, tapping on the screen before turning it around for them to look at. “Someone’s been attacked again.”

Marinette barely heard his last sentence. She’d seen enough similar photos over the last two weeks to recognise what this meant immediately. Photographs of areas sealed off with tape with people in different uniforms standing around being more or less useful. This particular one had been taken in one of the stairwells of the Abbesses station. The wild combination of murals and graffiti covering every inch of the curved walls was very recognisable. One of the markings stood out however, extending over the edge of the wall and down onto the narrow steps. She’d learned to recognise that too. The outline of a body.

“When did this happen?” Marinette croaked, pulling the screen closer to her.

“I don’t know, a few hours ago?” Nino sounded a little taken aback but gave her his phone without protest. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Marinette stared at the image, following the outline with her eyes again and again. A few hours ago. She’d been asleep then. Her stomach knotted. While she was drooling on her notes, dreaming of Adrien, another Parisian had fallen victim to whom or  _ whatever  _ was doing this.

“Marinette?”

How could she just let this happen? She’d promised to protect these people she—

“Girl?”

“I’m  _ fine,  _ Alya!” She snapped, perhaps a little too harsh, as she blinked to stop the photo from blurring before her eyes, “I just—” she choked, her throat constricting suddenly as if grabbed by a fist. Her eyes were fixed on the screen.

Impossible. It couldn’t—

She could feel her heart cramp inside her chest.

Four words. The letters weren’t particularly tall or scrawly or remarkable in any way really. They hardly stood out against the other dozens upon dozens of scribbles on the wall.

Only four words.

_ Where are you, Ladybug? _

Marinette’s fingers were trembling so hard now that she almost dropped the phone.

“I—” Her voice sounded hollow. “I have to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back on non existent schedule. I wanted to take a moment to thank you guys who've been following along. This fic is kind of out of my comfort zone of what I usually post (eg. angst, multichapter), and it warms my heart that you take interest in it. Thank you for taking the plunge with me, reading your comments always makes my day <3  
> See you next chapter ^^


	5. Chat Noir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks ladynoirist and thelunaticghost for beta reading this one mwah

Marinette was out of the flat in a blur, shrugging on a coat that was probably way too light for the oncoming afternoon-chill. She didn’t care. The image Nino had shown her floated in front of her as she crossed the street, her thoughts even faster than her footsteps as she hurried off towards Abesses station.

_ Where are you, Ladybug? _

After months and months of utter silence, someone was speaking to her. Someone remembered.

Her steps slowed somewhat as the thought fully sunk in, the tufts of her shallow breaths quickly dissolving in the cold air, heavy with oncoming mist.

Marinette wasn’t naive enough to ignore the circumstances of her find. Her name sprawled out on a subway wall, right over the outline of a body, that was no coincidence.

_ Where are you, Ladybug? _

Had it been a cry for help? A cruel joke? She couldn’t decide which would have been worse. Whoever had left that message for her, they had been involved in the latest attack, that much was obvious. But had they hoped for her to save them?

Or to fight?

Slowing down even more, Marinette finally came to a halt, still several streets away from her destination.

It was pointless to be heading to Abesses. There were only two possible people who could have left that message: one was in a coma and the other had caused it.

No, she knew where she had to go—where she should’ve gone weeks, months before.

She was out of excuses.

Marinette turned on her heel and started walking again.

“Monsieur Agreste, your friend is here to see you.”

Marinette stood in the doorway, dread clenching around her heart like a fist. Adrien’s childhood bedroom lay before her, unchanged since the last time she’d visited.

A reality ago.

Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe she’d been right for avoiding him. Maybe –

“Coming!” She could hear footsteps on the gallery above her and before she had a chance to change her mind, slipper-clad feet descended the glass stairs ahead. “We talked about this, man, father’s in a bad mood already with the celebration coming up, you can’t be here when he – Marinette.”

“Adrien.” He stood at the bottom of the stairs, left hand still on the handle as he looked at her in surprise. His hair was ruffled ever so slightly. Marinette let out a shaky breath, unsure whether to make it a laugh or a sob. Even after a year, she hadn’t gotten used to it, the bittersweetness of seeing him. She hardly registered the click of the door closing behind her.

And just like that, after all that time avoiding it, they were alone together.

“What are you doing here? Did something happen?” Adrien appeared to have gotten over his initial surprise and hurried over to her, his face and voice growing worried. “Are you okay?” He stopped rather abruptly, several steps between them and Marinette had to swallow at the sudden ache of  _ too far away. _

“Yes. I – I’m fine.” Would be. Marinette looked at him, her gaze tracing every single slope and line of his face.

He was here.

Everything would be okay.

“Listen I-”

“Uh would-”

They both stopped, looking at the other one expectantly.

“Um, Ladies first?”

Marinette let out a hoarse chuckle. “Funny you would phrase it that way,” she said quietly.

“I’m sorry?”

_ No, I am. _

“I – I need to talk to you.”

His eyes widened, mouth opening soundlessly and Marinette had to stuff her hands into her pockets as to not do something stupid.

“Oh, um. Okay.” Adrien scratched the back of his head. “Should we sit down?” He gestured over to the sleek white couch stretching out in the middle of his room.

Marinette nodded quietly, making her way over without meeting his eyes. Her nerves were beginning to bubble up again. Adrien cleared his throat awkwardly as he sat down several feet away from her, hands on his knees.

The sight itched something at the back of her head, an image of him sitting just like that, drenched in golden afternoon light. Her own wringing hands clad in familiar red. The smell of spring and excitement in the air.

Marinette blinked, fingers itching towards where her notebook lay heavily in her coat pocket, and the image was gone, the room once again a dull grey from the fog pressing against the tall windows.

Adrien rubbed his thighs nervously. “Um, would you like something to drink?”

“No, no thank you.” She shook her head and folded her hands. Inhaled. “Alright, listen. I – What I’m gonna say is going to sound crazy but you have to – please let me finish, okay?”

“Okay,” he said simply, eyes trained on hers.

“Over the past year have you – have you ever felt like something is – off? Like you remember things – wrong or that you know things you shouldn’t or –” His brows furrowed ever so slightly but he didn’t say anything. “What if – what if I told you that that’s because – well because things  _ were  _ different than we remember?” Marinette swallowed drily. “You – you know of the attacks going on, right?”

“You mean this series of seizures? People falling into a coma.”

“No. Yes. They’re not seizures. I – This is not the first time something like this has happened.”

He looked at her expectantly.

“Up until a year ago there were – there were these – attacks and – it wasn’t always people getting frozen but I just – I’ve seen this before and – Okay listen I know this is going to sound utterly insane but – what if I told you magic was real?”

He blinked. “Like,  _ real  _ real?”

“Yes it – there are these things called Miraculous that can give you these - powers and god knows what else is out there. Anyway, when we were teens all these weird things started to happen – people getting hurt – and it turned out that they were caused by a Miraculous so we – we helped. We fought.”

“Fought? I don’t-”

“You don’t remember, I know. Nobody does. Something happened that – But it was real I swear! You and Plagg -”

“Plagg?”

“Plagg is – was your Kwami, he gave you your powers. When you were Chat Noir –”

“Chat Noir” Adrien repeated slowly, his eyes losing focus for a second.

“Yes!” She leaned forward. “Yes, do you remember?”

“I-”

“Look it’s all in here.” Marinette moved closer, producing her notebook and flipping through the pages in a blur. “Chat Noir. Holder of the Black Cat Miraculous – there, see.” Her fingers flattened the page where hastily thrown down pen-strokes formed the sketch of a blond man in a black cat suit. Marinette remembered how she’d stumbled out of bed two nights after their meeting in the café, rushing to save as many details from her dreams as possible.

Adrien looked down at where the drawing was shaking in her hands. He studied it intently, face somewhere between pain and concentration. “Remember?” Marinette asked. “You had your staff and your cataclysm and – Adrien, you did so many great things, please you have to remember. I need you.”

“Need me?”

“We – we were a team- you and I, we – we always dealt with this stuff together – and now it’s happening again and I don’t know what to do. I don’t have my powers and – I need your help. We have to work this out together, please. I have no idea how this is happening or why –“

“Marinette –”

“No, Adrien,  _ please, _ I can’t do this on my own. Whatever is hurting these people, I can’t figure it out. It looks like – but it can’t be Hawkmoth again, it  _ can’t be,  _ your father –”

Adrien stiffened.

“What about my father?”

Marinette looked up at him.

“He. Doesn’t have his miraculous. I think.”

There was a silence.

“Are you saying that – my father –”

“We didn’t know it was him at first! I don’t know exactly when we – It’s not your fault Adrien. Your mother –”

“Oh so my mother too, huh?”

“No I –”

“In case you don’t remember, her funeral was three years ago.”

Marinette winced. “Actually –”

“She’s been gone for ten years, Marinette.”

“I know, but he –”

“And father has done his best raising me on his own, despite it all. Do you even know what that means? I know he’s busy, I know we have our – But he’s  _ trying,  _ okay? He  _ loves  _ me – we only have each other.”

“That’s not –”

“I think you should go. Father will be home soon.”

He got up, avoiding her gaze. The notebook hit the couch with a soft thud. Her fingers had gone numb.

“Adrien –” 

Marinette staggered to her feet, his form beginning to blur before her. 

“Please,” she whispered.

_ I can’t do this on my own. _

He was looking out of the window, his profile a washed-out gray in the fading light. She could see his throat working, the tension in his jaw. The way he avoided her eyes.

The floor swayed beneath her feet and Marinette felt herself become strangely lightheaded. She turned, only vaguely aware of the way her legs shook as she made her way to the door. She didn’t realise she was crying until after she walked through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello
> 
> It's been two months.
> 
> I have nothing to say for myself. *disappears to reply to 70 days old comments*
> 
> If you're interested in having more insight to the ongoings of the story (aka me losing my mind as I write literally the third version of this chapter because I pushed to plot around), you can find me on tumblr @amiraculousplatypus


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